Going South: Pushy

With my arms pinned between us, I try to push him away. He latches around me and pulls me closer, quick enough so our lips never part. Stunned, I hesitate. When his tongue meets my teeth, I shove him hard and he stumbles backwards, catching himself with one hand on a chair.

Wide-eyed, unsure of what to do next, I wait motionless, watching him recover. He stands tall, straightens his shirt and returns a deadly glare.

“You should leave,” I manage to say, still unable to move.

He steps towards me, his expression softening. “Come on, Ana.”

“Stop.” I hold my hand up to block him, averting my eyes. “Leave.”

We both remain motionless for a moment, my heart pounding in my ears.

He shifts, opening his arms to me as if I might climb in for a hug. “Ana, I –“

Another shove to his chest and I slip away. Stopped by a yank on my arm, I turn to face him again. His grip tightens when I try to pull away.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he says, his eyes locked with mine, his hand squeezing my upper arm.

Twisting does not help me break free. “Get out!” I yell. Yelling is all I have left. “Now!”

Our staring match goes on.

“It was just a kiss,” he says, releasing my arm. The sudden freedom leaves me shaky.

He takes a seat at the table as if nothing significant has happened. “I need to talk to Bosley. I’m not going anywhere.” He flips through the paper.

Infuriated yet unnerved, I am speechless. What can I do? I can’t make him leave. Am I in danger? Would Damian really hurt me? I never thought so until now. I rub my arm where it stings, glaring at the back of his head as he browses the news. Loyalty to Bosley’s ‘friend’ battles with personal safety. If he won’t go, I must. Bosley might not like me leaving him here alone but would he prefer I stay? I don’t think so. I make a judgment call and grab my purse.

“Bosley should be home soon. I’m going out.”

He stops reading and raises his head. I’m out the door before he has a chance to speak.

The keys jingle as my shaky hand attempts to get them in their place. I back out and take off down the street. When I’m clear of my neighborhood, I pull into an empty parking lot, put the car in park and stare straight ahead until my surroundings blur. Silence while I contemplate. Breathe while I regain composure. Could Bosley have planned it? How convenient that he had to go out… How interesting that Damian appeared only minutes after Bosley left. Did Bosley even go to work? Or did he visit Myra while Damian was attacking me? Tempted to confirm Bosley’s whereabouts, I take out my phone and hold it. The time display mocks me. I can’t make the call.

I must be losing my mind. Bosley wouldn’t agree to swing, I’m sure. It’s just a misunderstanding, coincidence that Damian appeared when I was alone, just like Damian to come on to me the second the opportunity arose. No, Bosley didn’t set me up. I am sure.

Nearly half an hour has passed and I feel settled again. To make sure I don’t go home until Bosley is there, I head to the library, my sanctuary.

The art section greets me with open arms. The scent of molding books soothes me. I browse the stack, my eye skimming the titles yet not reading them at all. I wrack my brain to come up with some reasonable explanation for Bosley and Damian’s behavior but can’t come up with one thing. My stomach turns.

I pull a book off the shelf and flip through. Monet. He’s not my favorite so I put it back. Another by Munch catches my eye. I open straight to The Scream. How cliché yet how perfectly fitting for the moment. I stay with it a while longer, exploring the colors and emotion. It speaks to me.

An hour passes like minutes as I continue to browse famous painters, then how-to’s. I decide to get out my acrylics and paint again after this mess is cleared up. It’s been years. My stomach flips …more like rumbles. I realize I haven’t eaten lunch. It’s almost dinner time. Bosley was due home hours ago. I deem it safe to return.

Bosley’s car is in the driveway when I get home. I feel better already. The misunderstanding will be cleared up in no time. Just outside the door, I start at the sound of yelling from inside. Bosley and Damian are going at it though I can’t make out what they’re saying. Does he know Damian kissed me? Does he think I kissed him? I push through the door, unsure of what I’m up against. The yelling stops. Both stand frozen, their heads turned to face me as I stare back.

“What’s going on?” I say.

“Nothing,” Bosley says, obviously irritated. He props his hands on his hips.

I know it’s not nothing. Does he think I’m stupid?

“Look, Ana –“ Damian begins, facing me, but Bosley cuts him off.

“Damian, shut your mouth!” he yells, stabbing his finger at the air in front of him. I am shocked to hear my quiet, mild Bosley shout like this. He turns to face me, his finger stabbing towards me now. “Ana, stay out of it. Go back out until I call you.”

What?! My mouth drops open. Excuse me? Stay out of it? How can I stay out of it when I’m already in it?

Damian steps towards me with an empathetic look on his face and Bosley blocks him, walking towards me himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says with forced patience. “I shouldn’t have yelled.” He holds my arms as if to keep my full attention. “Please give me and Damian some privacy for a bit.” I’m not sure how to react to this …foreign Bosley. I look at Damian. He looks away. I look at Bosley.

“An hour,” he says.

I don’t understand. I don’t want to leave. “Bosley, what’s –“

“Just don’t, Ana. I said stay out of it.” He removes his hands from my arms and slides them into his pockets. His determined expression tells me we won’t be discussing it - not now, not later, not ever maybe. I am hurt. Hurt and irritated.

I slam the door behind me on my way out, a pointless retaliation. I am tempted to leave and never come back, just to spite him. How dare he push me around, keep secrets and expect me to work around them?

I drive with more speed now, sharper, more dangerous. I have no idea where I’m going. I’m just going. This mystery plagues me. I’m determined not to rest until I know what’s going on. Bosley is so private he would wring my neck if I said anything to Tania. But she could help me figure out what to do. Then again she might overreact and do something crazy like confront him about it.

     

~~ Should Ana call her friend Tania for help or go it alone? ~~

          

NOTE: Vote by the poll. The official tally will be taken from the poll which closes midnight Thursday (EST).

In addition, leave comments below to persuade me one way or the other in case there's a tie. Click on the word ‘comments’ below to open the comments form. Watch next Tuesday for the following episode based on your votes.

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